


The Donor Market

by OwlosaurusRex



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Real World, Gore, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Long, M/M, Slow Build, say nono to jojo in fanfics, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3391550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OwlosaurusRex/pseuds/OwlosaurusRex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A murderer (or group of murderers) has been running rampant in Krimson City, killing people for their organs. This "butcher" terrorizes the city and eludes the authorities, even managing to take one of their own. Sebastian and Joseph have to wrestle with this elusive murderer who kills indiscriminately while also dealing with their grief. One of the first victims was perhaps the most important one of all. With Myra gone and no solid leads in the case, what in the hell is Sebastian going to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote this in response to a prompt for a writing class that asked us to "describe winter" so try to excuse the excessive description. I haven't gotten around to changing it yet.

The staccato click of Sebastian’s lighter melded oddly with the low hiss of winter wind that sliced between the tall brick buildings of the inner city. The rumble and screech of the subway faded beneath the sound of traffic wading through gritty slush and the crunch of hurried boots on poorly shoveled sidewalks.

Sebastian lingered on the steps leading up from the station, cupping chapped hands around the feeble flame that winked and shuddered in the cold, and greedily filling his lungs with the acrid heat of nicotine and chemicals. A rattling cough was an easy price to pay for a simple comfort. What sort of commute would it be without numb fingers and ash on his coat?

He melted into the fresh crowd that gushed from the subways, ignoring the purposefully loud coughing from the man behind him and focusing instead on dodging the ice and clumps of blue salt in his path. His clean black shoes seemed out of place among the wet sneakers and salt-stained boots rimmed with fake fur. The smell of coffee mingled among his fellow commuters, reminding him of his late start this morning.

The crowd dwindled more and more at each intersection, people ducking into buildings or trotting across streets with the plastic swish of their coats, and as Sebastian walked he could hear the collective groan from the city as an especially violent gust of wind flipped hoods, tore at hats, and gnawed at whatever exposed flesh it could reach. His eyes stung; he ducked his head into the wind and drew hard on his cigarette to keep the frail red glow alive and burning.

The cold was insistent; an impersonal mistress that hardened the earth and drank the warmth from his body. She wrapped him tightly in her arms, plucking at his lips with frigid fingertips, and reached in past his teeth to chase each breath with impossibly long fingers that curled in his lungs where it was warmest. But she lost her way, tangled in the pungent smoke, and Sebastian felt her stinging presence most on the surface. Unperturbed by the ash, she took care to caress the rough edges of his face until it burned. Two more blocks to the precinct.

The glow from the KCPD windows was inviting despite the frosted glass, yet Sebastian hovered near the door, hunching his shoulders and turning away from the wind in order to savor the last few drags on his cigarette. People passed by in a spotty stream, two here, three there, a woman clicking past in a poor choice of footwear with her phone glued to her ear and voice rising in frustration. _Some people,_ he thought, and closed his eyes against another whistling burst of cold.

"Morning, Detective Castellanos," the woman's voice was nearly lost in the wind but Sebastian caught it in time to nod at the officer before she slipped into the building with a quick stomp of her boots. He caught a glimpse of her as she passed, all crisp clean lines and thick fabric, and he was glad for his more comfortable clothing. His days as a beat cop were far behind him, wrinkled and shoved in the back of his closet with the spiders. Buried deep.

Two more officers passed, walking from the building to their car and letting the door shut slowly behind them. The delay brought with it the promise of warmth inside and the excited chatter of his colleagues already hard at work. The shrill cry of telephones could still be heard even once the door had shut.

Sebastian exhaled slowly, the thick smoke dispersing in a thin cloud around his head. He missed the next three officers that crept reluctantly from the warm belly of the station and instead saw only the shortening stub between his fingers and the paperwork stacking on his desk. His bottom lip was cracking under the mistress' care.

"Sebastian! There you are. I was starting to think something was up."

Sebastian licked the blood from his lip.

"What are you doing out here? You're almost an hour late, you know," Joseph's voice was low, the same calm tone with just enough concern to grind on Sebastian's patience.

When he finally looked up, he found Joseph poking his head out of the doorway, his glasses already fogging over.

"I'll be in in a minute," he said between puffs of smoke. Each drag brought the glowing tip crawling ever closer to his fingers but it was doubtful he would be able to feel its burn.

“Seb, this really isn’t a good habit to get into,” Joseph spoke slowly, pausing to let an officer through the door before stepping out beside his partner. He curled in on himself, rubbing at his arms, and when Sebastian didn’t offer a comment he continued, “You really shouldn’t keep showing up late like this-“

“Really? What are you going to do, Joseph,” Sebastian drew in a final lungful of smoke and turned to stare at him. “Report me again?” Sebastian couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could see Joseph’s eyes widen through his fogged lenses. He turned towards the building and stifled a cough.

“Sebastian, you know I only did that to help you-“ Joseph was interrupted by another of Sebastian’s coughs and the momentary lapse seemed to steal the words from his mouth.

Sebastian licked at his bleeding lip and flicked ashes onto the sidewalk. “Go inside, Joseph, it’s cold.”

“But, Seb-“

“I’m coming in, so go upstairs and get me a cup of coffee before It runs out,” Sebastian said and scraped the butt of his cigarette against the coarse brick of the building, watching the glowing ashes fall and making sure they died before tossing the remaining nub in an empty planter near the door.

Joseph hesitated, looking as though he might speak up again but ultimately retreated to the welcome warmth of the police station, followed closely by Sebastian who was in desperate need of a good thaw and a strong drink. From the sound of the buzz inside, he doubted he would get either.

Sebastian dragged his feet against the old rug haphazardly before diving into the murmur of officers and the ever-present ring of phones. He passed the large front desk without looking at the secretaries there and followed Joseph through the sea of dark uniforms and inflated egos to the elevators that buzzed and clamored endlessly with traffic. They joined the small, restless cluster forming around the stubborn steel doors and Sebastian noticed Joseph trying to rub the fog from his glasses, which only seemed to leave them smudged and blurry given his irritated reaction.

Detective Joseph Oda was neat, tidy, every black hair slicked into place, his clothes ironed and pressed, and even his black gloves showed little sign of wear despite their constant use. Sebastian always found it rather funny how serious Joseph was about appearances. He definitely understood wanting to look professional but sometimes Joseph just looked TOO put-together, if that were possible. Joseph’s impulsiveness seemed to contradict the time and care he put into his professionalism but Sebastian had quit trying to figure that out a long time ago. Sometimes Sebastian swore he could see the wheels spinning wildly behind those brown eyes of his, his mind working far too quickly to catch on to any caution, but It didn’t matter much to him as long as Joseph kept himself out of trouble.

One of the elevators arrived with a triumphant _ding_ and released its restless cargo packed tight with their documents and winter gear. Sebastian held the doors and let the others on first while Joseph shuffled in and pressed the button for the third floor. The Elevator was small and heavy with the heat of bodies and the smell of coffee and someone’s far too strong perfume which made Sebastian's nose burn. He watched with increasing impatience as the number above the door climbed with each passing floor, and was grateful that the higher-ups had decided to move their offices down from the top floor. He wasn't sure he could handle the chokingly close proximity for long.

Their ride was mercifully short and Sebastian was the first to step out of the stuffy box and into the busy hive of the Krimson City Precinct. The clutter of old desks, computer screens, and filing cabinets felt like home as much as anything else did and the agitated buzz kept his mind from wandering too far or wading too deep.

Men and women moved in unpredictable streams around the room, weaving around desks and flowing in and out of offices like blood through the heart. Pumped in with an armful of documents and pumped out with a new purpose for the day. Joseph walked on ahead of him, falling into the hectic rhythm with little difficulty despite his misty glasses, and Sebastian wasn't surprised to see his partner disappear into the lounge in search of coffee. He didn't hold much hope for there being any left but it didn't matter either way.

Sebastian stuck to the wall to avoid the thicker clots of detectives and attorneys but could still feel the familiar burn of staring eyes. When the initial investigation into his work was underway he had been met each morning with looks of concern, curiosity, and even suspicion. Once the IA report was finished and the months passed --then a year, then more--most of them had quit looking. What was there to look at, anyway? As if he would let his drinking affect his work, as if that had anything to do with the loss of his wife--But none of that really mattered, now.

Sebastian made the final trek across the room with far less grace than Joseph, dodging people as best he could and standing aside to allow a few colleagues out of the lounge before catching the door and stepping inside. For a moment he caught his dull reflection in the dark glass of the door's window and he nearly laughed. Unshaven, dark hair disheveled and carelessly combed back with coarse fingers-- what was he if not his partner's opposite? Those 38 years seemed to be catching up to him-- one drink and one cigarette at a time. He fixed the collar of his old beige coat and let the door shut harder than he had expected. Joseph jumped where he stood at the counter and nearly tipped the can of coffee grounds in his hands.

"Sorry, hand slipped," Sebastian said, watching Joseph wipe up what he had spilled and cringing at the sweet, brown smell of bananas someone had left on the counter a little too long.

Joseph mumbled something but Sebastian didn't catch it.

"Anything worth drinking?" Sebastian pushed a chair in as he rounded the old white table, its surface pockmarked with ink stains and burns from the days when smoking inside was part of the routine, and made his way to the counter.

"No. It was gone, but I thought I should just make a new pot," Joseph said without looking up from where he was pouring water into the coffeemaker.

"How generous of you."

"You're not the only one around here who would benefit from a little extra caffeine, you know." Joseph looked up at him over the thick black frames of his glasses. "But you're welcome nonetheless."

Sebastian huffed and eyed the over-ripe bananas drooping like splotched slugs on the counter. Not slugs, more like rotting wood washed up on the shore of the river. Something slimy and _dead._

Joseph looked up when he had finished, the coffee starting to drip into the pot with a low drum and splatter. He looked from Sebastian to the bananas and back again, frowning at Sebastian's apparent fixation.

"Seb?"

"Hm?" Sebastian looked down at his hand on the counter, rubbing his thumb over the smooth silver of his wedding band.

Joseph hesitated.

"Are you alright, Sebastian?" His question was as casual as he could make it and he busied himself with tucking the coffee can into the cupboard to avoid looking at his partner.

Sebastian drummed his fingers on the counter and scowled at Joseph's nagging sense of concern.

"I don't see why I wouldn't be," He said brusquely and turned away from the counter. "Just bring me a cup when it's done, I've got things to do." Sebastian left Joseph in the hot caffeinated steam and walked to the door. He hardly managed to open it before an excited intern bustled in. He was a short, frantic kid from the academy that seemed to share Joseph's rash tendencies. The intern scurried past with a hasty apology and very nearly ran into the table in his excitement to report. Sebastian didn't bother sticking around to listen and this time when he closed the door a little too hard it had a purpose. He was usually grateful for his younger partner's patience with the newbies and the interns, but sometimes it just caused Sebastian unnecessary headaches. He didn't like babysitting.

His office with Joseph was tucked back as far from the lounge as possible and Sebastian was grateful for it, if not for the privacy then for the slightly quieter conditions. He cut his way across the room with minimal trouble and far less attention. It seemed, for the time being at least, that his colleagues had decided to mind their own business instead of digging into his. He was getting really tired of that shit.

Sebastian shut the office door behind him with a considerable sigh of relief and shrugged his coat off his shoulders as he shimmied his way behind his too-big desk. Their shared office was far too small for the two desks that occupied it, add in the filing cabinets and that cork board Joseph insisted on having and it almost looked comical. Sebastian hardly had room to pull his old office chair out from under his desk, the metal wheels scraping against the floor and leaving gouges in the dirty laminate, let alone move around properly. Sebastian leaned over the scarred metal and dated green fabric of his chair to hang his coat on the single peg he could fit between his cabinets. It hung there often, serving its silent vigil long into the night and often times into the early morning hours. The pale camel color was slightly stained around the cuffs and worn thin at the elbows but Sebastian couldn't seem to part with it. He could still remember the white box and blue tissue paper cradling the precious birthday gift. Myra had insisted he keep it, despite the cost, and he'd worn it ever since. How many years had it been now?

Sebastian took a moment to eye a hole-in-the-making in the thinning fabric, before turning back to his desk and sitting in his chair with a loud creak of lifeless springs and the rattle of metal. He dragged the sorry chair up to his desk and leaned back against the unresisting green upholstery. The back of the chair gave way easily, sagging back until his head nearly hit the wall and the metal hinges screamed in protest. The old thing was far from comfortable, the padding worn down to nothing, springs lumpy and unforgiving, and the frame actually taped together in places, but Sebastian refused to get rid of that, too. Joseph thought he was just being stubborn but Sebastian knew that if he made himself comfortable here he would be less likely to leave and he already spent enough of his life pouring over the lives of other people as it was. It all served a purpose.

Sebastian rubbed the remaining chill from his face with a sigh and leaned forward to address the growing stack of folders that littered his desk. Despite the clutter, the smooth wooden desk seemed lacking and he knew why. He eyed the lone empty corner whose surface was darker in places where it had been spared from the harsh fluorescent lights over the years. It had taken him a long time to put it all away, settled neatly in the top drawer of his desk, and even now he missed the dark picture frames and smiling faces, but they'd only served as a distraction. He'd convinced himself of that after a few months of forced therapy and concerned glances from Joseph across the room. Remembering was one thing, but obsessing was another.

Sebastian drummed his fingers on the desk, feeling the unmistakable tug, the _urge_ to drag them all out again. It was like an addiction, though the burn of grief cut him far deeper than any liquor could and without any of the blissful numbing. It only hurt.

He slapped his hand on his desk in frustration and dragged the top folder off of the stack, flipping it open and spreading its contents out to fill the gaps in his life.

A missing person’s case. The 30 year old man had been missing since October and the case had very nearly gone cold after their latest lead fell short. No family to speak of, few friends save for the people he worked with at a local deli-- if not for the state of his abandoned truck, Sebastian would have thought the man had just up and left. There didn't appear to be any kind of motive for his kidnapping and nothing in his truck had been stolen. He and Joseph would have considered calling it a fluke, some sort of opportunity kidnapping, or the result of a dispute that hadn't come to light yet, perhaps, but this case wasn't one-of-a-kind.

Sebastian dragged over another folder, a 24 year old woman missing from her apartment with very similar circumstances, and a third folder housing the photos of a townhouse where two sisters had both disappeared. It was a growing trend that put a bad taste in Sebastian's mouth, especially when one of the sisters had been found on the riverbank some months after her disappearance. Or, most of her, anyway. He had a sinking suspicion that they were all a part of something bigger--a string of murders related to the organ trade in the black market.

The last file on Sebastian's desk was far thicker than the rest, a near-permanent feature whose newest installation was no older than a month now, having found a butchered man in a dumpster downtown. He was hesitant to add these three new cases to the growing file, given the lack of bodies for two of the cases, and the state of the sister in the third. Unlike those "butcher" cases where the victims had been cut open with surgical precision, most likely while they were still breathing, and their organs removed with an apparent sense of expertise, the sister who had washed up along the river was in a terrible state. Disregarding the decomposition and the damage dealt from nibbling fish, her body had been mangled and the coroner's report reflected a botched attempt at removing a kidney that had most likely resulted from a lack of experience and proper knowledge. Some amateur with a knife had decided to hack away at some poor girl in what appeared to be a blatant attempt at copying this "Krimson City Butcher" as the papers had started calling him. But why only one sister? Was this related to the other cases, or was it actually a copy-cat? He was hesitant to believe that it had nothing to do with these organ-harvesters plaguing the city, but it was just too different for him to file it away with the other victims without further proof.

He spread the photos out, images of the abandoned truck, empty apartment, and ransacked townhouse intermingled with the grey and blue, waterlogged body of young Amy Henderson. Her swollen face stared up at him, one eye lost to the crawfish and bottom-feeders of the river, and the other hazy and askew. Her body was distended, warped, hair in a tangle, and her abdomen poorly stitched together. At least she had most of her pieces, he thought, feeling bile claw at the back of his throat. He looked up from the photos and stared at the "butcher" file. There were more photos within, photos just as gruesome in ways or worse in others when advanced decomposition had taken place.

Hollowed cheeks, sunken sockets, body pillaged of all it had to offer--even marrow in some places--and discarded to rot in some junkyard with rats and stray animals having their share. There hadn't been enough left of her to bury. He didn't need to see the picture, he remembered every detail. The bile burned fiercely in his throat and he pressed a hand to his face, trying to calm the churning in his stomach. Remembering was one thing, but obsessing was another.

Sebastian had only just managed to calm himself when Joseph finally returned with two Styrofoam cups that steamed victoriously. Joseph nudged the door shut with his shoulder and stepped over to Sebastian's desk.

"Here you go, sorry it took so long, you'd be surprised how many--" Joseph's voice dropped away as he reached the desk and saw the photos. Sebastian gathered them up quickly with sweaty hands and fumbled with them for a few moments before managing to slip them back into their respective folders. Joseph stood silently all the while, watching him. He looked from Sebastian down to the desk, his eyes sweeping from the thick file over to the barren corner where he, too, missed the familiar faces. He cleared his throat and reached out to set their cups down in the empty space. Sebastian grabbed his cup before Joseph could fully let go.

"Thanks." Sebastian grunted and took a far too hasty drink, the coffee burning his cracked lip and all the way down his throat. It didn't help the churning in his stomach.

"Of course, Seb. Not a problem." Joseph spoke slowly and Sebastian could practically hear the gears grinding beneath that black hair of his. Seb scowled into his cup.

"I thought you said you were going to file these--"

"I will, when I'm done with them. Do you plan on nagging me all day, Joseph? I don't need a babysitter." Sebastian huffed and set his coffee down in favor of busying himself with the files, stacking them up again and turning around with a harsh squeak of his chair to find an unrelated case in his filing cabinet. He flipped through file after file, focusing intently on the names lest his attention start to drift. When he found what he was looking for, plucked the thin folder from its place, and turned back around, he found Joseph still standing there, staring at his desk. Joseph tapped a gloved finger on the faded wood thoughtfully. He looked troubled and Sebastian didn't like the feeling that Joseph was tiptoeing around something.

Sebastian sighed far heavier than he meant to and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Did you collect those telephone records for the Phillips case? I think we have enough here to indict the husband, but those phone records will seal the deal." Sebastian flipped open the file just for the sake of it, scanned the documents they had collected on the domestic abuse case and hoped the distraction would get them back to work and out of his personal life where Joseph had been poking around more and more lately. Joseph was quiet long enough to warrant Sebastian looking up at him impatiently.

"Joseph."

Joseph looked up quickly, nodding and lifting his hand from the desk to slip the glasses from his nose. He squinted down at them as he rubbed at the lenses.

"Yes, I have the records in my bag. I'll get them for you. I also have the test results from the Henderson case, actually. They were dropped off earlier this morning. There didn't appear to be any signs of drugs in her system, recreational or otherwise..." He drawled off as the implication of these findings sunk in.

"Christ, they couldn't operate on a conscious girl, could they?" Sebastian shook his head at the thought of someone having to feel every incision...

"Well, it is possible, though far from ethical, obviously, or even practical. It doesn't make much sense to try and operate on a moving body, but maybe that's part of their MO?" Joseph mused aloud, returning his glasses to their rightful place and finally turning away to gather the documents from his bag.

"That doesn't match up to any of the other victims, though. The others had shown signs of sedatives--more like an actual surgical procedure. Why would they change their tactics this far into the game?"

Joseph returned and dropped the lab results and phone records on Sebastian's desk in two separate piles.

"You're looking at this as if the Henderson case is directly related to these organ-harvesters?" Joseph asked.

Sebastian took up the lab results and flipped through them, frowning at Joseph's question.

"She was cut open just like the others and there had been an attempt, at least, of removing a kidney. Why shouldn't I place her with the other butcher victims?" He looked up from the reports expectantly.

Joseph took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. "It doesn't match up. None of their other victims showed signs of "sloppy" work like this. I think it is more likely that someone was trying to copy the professionals in order to cash in on the organ trade."

Sebastian sighed in frustration and leaned back in his chair. "It's possible that this guy, or group, or whoever is doing this, has had other botched jobs. Maybe we just haven't found them yet." Sebastian let the sobering thought hang between them a few moments and noted the contemplation and general reluctance on Joseph's face. Neither of them wanted to believe that there were even _more_ victims out there yet unfound, but it was a possibility that they had to face. Sebastian rubbed at the back of his neck and stared at his desk a long while before speaking up again.

"I really think this case is related, Joseph, and whether it is or not, the other Henderson girl is still out there, and I would rather not find her at the bottom of the river," Sebastian said with more force than was necessary but it seemed to do its job. Joseph nodded decidedly.

"You're right, but if these cases are related then we really don't have much to go by." Joseph reached out to take the heavy file but hesitated and simply rested his gloved hand on top instead.

Joseph didn't have to tell him that, Sebastian knew the ins and outs of those cases, knew almost every detail, and knew, above all else, that they had no leads. It was infuriating.

"I'll look through the files again, maybe there is something there that we missed--" Sebastian leaned forward and reached for the file but Joseph only pressed his hand down harder, pinning it in place.

"Seb," Joseph's voice was firmer now and though concern showed plainly on his face, his voice lacked its usual gentleness that Sebastian had come to label "nagging".

"Seb, I don't think you should." Joseph didn't look at him.

"What do you mean?" Sebastian didn't like where this was going.

"I think it would be best if you took a step back from this one, Seb. You know--" Joseph stopped a moment, looking guilty in a way. "You know you shouldn't even be looking at it in the first place." Joseph closed his eyes, anticipating Sebastian's reaction.

"Like Hell I'm going to just sit here--"

"Listen, Sebastian," Joseph reached down and picked the heavy file up off Sebastian's desk despite the obvious fury that provoked. "You're too close to this, Seb-- _I'm_ too close to this and it's surprising that they allowed me to even touch these cases. Now I'm not going to pretend that they don't know you've been working on this, because they do, but...you can't keep doing this. Especially today, Seb. Just...try and let it be." Joseph hugged the file to his chest as if he expected Sebastian to try and take it from him, and perhaps he would have if Joseph's words hadn't hit him so hard.

Sebastian just sat there, glaring at the thick stack of photos and reports as if _they_ were the cause of all of this and not some money-hungry murderer. He ground his teeth and gripped at the metal arms of his chair until his wedding ring bit painfully into his skin.

Joseph stood frozen, watching the tension flow through his partner in waves: rage, shame, all sorts of pain, and a suffocating stubbornness. Joseph looked down at the file and back up again, letting Sebastian have his silence and turning away to place the documents in his filing cabinet where they couldn't openly tempt them.

Minutes went by in silence with Seb's face dropping into his hands and Joseph staring into the lukewarm coffee he'd retrieved from Sebastian's desk. Sebastian struggled but finally managed to drop his hands back on the desk. Joseph didn't look up at him, didn't want to make him feel any worse than he already did.

After a few more moments Joseph found his voice and spoke softly. "I was planning on inviting you over tonight," he said cautiously and sipped at his coffee.

Sebastian furrowed his brows and looked up at him with reddened eyes. "What?"

"I was planning on inviting you over. I meant to ask yesterday but things got so busy I didn't find the time. I just think it might be good for you to have some company today," Joseph paused and looked up at Seb with a mirrored expression of pain. "And, well, maybe I need the company too. Believe it or not, you're not the only one who misses her, Seb. I know none of us can ever hurt as much as you do, but we still feel, you know?" He set his coffee aside and lifted a hand to smooth back his already perfect hair.

"I mean, ever since her passing--"

"Murder." Sebastian interjected, his voice coarse and tired.

Joseph rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses.

"I don't want to have to pick you up off the bathroom floor tomorrow, Seb. Or worse..." He looked up again but Sebastian turned away before their eyes could meet.

"Then don't." He said and opened up the Phillips case again, flipping through the phone records absently with unfocused eyes. Sebastian could feel Joseph's stare and hear him moving about behind his desk but neither of them spoke again for nearly twenty minutes.

Sebastian was so absorbed in himself, in his memories, that he didn't hear the knock at the door and didn't realize anyone had entered until they spoke.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm about to interrogate a suspect in a non-lethal shooting case and I need one of my superiors present." Kidman's voice was quickly recognized and just as quickly ignored.

Joseph glanced at Sebastian but didn't really expect him to do anything.

"That's fine; I'll be out in a minute. Interrogation room two?" Joseph rose from his chair and tidied the paperwork he had been filling out.

"Room three, actually. Room two is being used. Sounded like another domestic case. We're seeing more and more of those these days." Kidman shook her head and gave Sebastian a passing glance before turning to hover in the doorway.

"You go on ahead. I just need to file this and I'll be there," Joseph said and went about organizing each page in an overly meticulous way. Kidman didn't comment and merely left, shutting the door behind her.

Joseph was slow to finish what he was doing and even slower in circling his desk and heading for the door. He hesitated, hand on the doorknob and shrugged his shoulders.

"My offer still stands, you know. If you need somewhere to be, I'll be home all night doing whatever, so..." He didn't look back at Sebastian and, instead, opened the door and melted into the noise of progress outside.

Sebastian let the phone records drop into his lap and stared up at the gray-tiled ceiling. It had been one year since the day they found Myra. One year since a frozen morning and the old homeless man who had found her in his search for warmth. In an old car of all places. In a junkyard. Thrown away like scraps. He tried to think of her smiling face, assumed it would sting far less to see her happy, but it was so difficult to drown out the memory of frozen skin and decay--it was so _hard_ to see her face beyond the slack jaw and bruised eyelids. Had she ever been anything more than that? Of course she had. He had the pictures right here in his desk, but...but he would have plenty of time for remembering later. A weekend's worth of time to remember, to _obsess_ , to do whatever he could to try and make it hurt less.

He closed the file in his lap and tossed it on his desk carelessly before rising to his feet. Plenty of time for nightmares later, for now he was better off keeping busy. And that was exactly what he planned on doing. Sebastian stepped around his desk and picked up his cold coffee before walking to the door and out into the real world. It was alive and loud and often times too careless to stop. Just what he needed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We follow Joseph through a very strange and stressful night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY got around to editing this so here is the new and improved version of chapter 2. That being said, it is still subject to change, especially after I get to work on chapter 1 and I need to find a better name for the "bad guys" other than butcher or surgeon so bear with me a little. I hope the edits are nice! Also, the way chapter 2 is now it is extremely long so I'm going to chop Joseph's part into two chapters. 
> 
> This took so long to finish I'm so glad it's done for now.

9:57 pm. The time burned in painful yellow fluorescence on a short sign stationed at the bank across the street. Joseph watched it flash and scroll through its programmed messages from his place in the checkout lane. It was a bit late for grocery shopping, but Joseph had been looking forward to a hot meal at home, and after such a trying day he was certainly going to go through with his plans.

When the rhythmic beep of items being scanned came to a halt, Joseph turned back to the tired cashier. He tried to offer a smile but the girl didn't smile back.

Joseph paid without any further attempts at socializing and watched as the old cash-register drawer rattled out to meet the girl's red-tipped fingers. She couldn't have been more than 19 years old, he thought, glancing around the small marketplace with a frown. The girl reached out to give him his change, and he pocketed the coins carelessly.

"Are you the only one here?" He stepped over to his two bulging paper bags and looked around again. The girl frowned at him warily and set a hand on the conveyor belt to lean forward, oblivious to whatever sticky messes it possessed.

"What kind of question is that?" She narrowed her eyes at him and propped her other hand on her hip.

Joseph realized his mistake too late and shook his head hurriedly.

"Oh, no, I'm a police officer. I was just concerned. I wouldn't expect the owners to schedule only one person on the night shift. It's not safe." He looked down from the girl's irritated stare and gathered up his bags, one in each arm.

"Yeah? Well, Jim's out back so you don't have to worry about that." She rolled her eyes and peeled her hand from the belt in favor of crumpling up his receipt and tossing it in the bin by her feet. "Have a good night," she added with a certain sting to her voice that made Joseph regret even asking.

"You too," he mumbled under his breath as he lifted the bags and juggled them for a few clumsy, crinkling moments before managing to get a good grip. He didn't look back at the girl, but he could feel her sneer nonetheless and hurried to the doors. It had been a _really_ long day.

Joseph thought back to the busy noise of the office, the paper work, spilt coffee, confused interns, and, of course, Sebastian. His partner had tried so hard to hide his pain and stick to his usual tough guy façade but Joseph wasn’t sure how long that was going to last. There was nothing he could do for his partner, and it just made him feel worse about the whole thing. Why did he feel so guilty?

Joseph shouldered his way through the frosted glass doors. The sudden burst of cold air knocked the thoughts clear from his head along with the hot mist of his breath. He hunched his shoulders against the chill and shuffled out onto the cracked city sidewalks, his glasses fogging over in the process.

Streetlights buzzed overhead, their dulled light feeling murky in the crisp whiteness of winter that dusted the city. The neighborhood wasn't a bad one by any means but its long rows of buildings compressing the narrow streets was nothing like the more spacious homes of the upper-middle class a few blocks over.

As he walked, Joseph could hear voices from the brick building at the corner, the distant wail of a car alarm, and the whispers of the couple that passed by with Friday-night laughter on their breath. These were the sounds of the city, the sounds of life. It was so fragile.

A sharp gust hissed through the brick-walled gaps and narrow alleys, tossing Joseph's hair in its rage and trying to rip the bags from his arms. His heavy wool coat absorbed what it could, but the cold was persistent and dug at his back with a malicious force. Joseph stumbled in the ravenous cold, his bags crunching between his chest and the arm of an unlucky stranger. His cabbage saw its opportunity and took it, leaping from the bag and bouncing once before realizing the error of its ways and settling among the ice and grit. Joseph could hear the man grunt and leaned back as quickly as he could manage.

"Oh, excuse me," he said, looking from the sagging paper bags to the sleeve of the man's white coat and up to his face. Joseph had seen enough burn victims in his career to recognize the scars. The man looked at him as though he had hardly noticed the affront.

"It's fine." The man’s voice was sharp with the cold and mirrored the texture of his face: coarse, in a way. He looked at the escaped cabbage and leaned down to pick it up. "Here, you don't want to forget this." He placed it back where it belonged, adjusting a few of the other groceries to offer the flighty vegetable more stability.

"Ah, thank you," Joseph said, eyeing the cabbage to be sure it wasn't going to roll out again before looking to the stranger and awkwardly returning his thin smile.

"Don't mention it. Those look heavy; do you need help with them?"

Joseph wasn't going to stare.

"No, I'll be fine. It's a short walk, but thank you for the offer," Joseph said, wondering if it was more awkward to stare into his eyes than it was to look at his scars. Perhaps a bit more uncomfortable but a lot less rude, he told himself.

The man glanced around at the surrounding buildings before nodding at him. "All right then, good luck," he offered and turned to continue on his way.

Joseph watched him go for a moment with a sense of surprise. It wasn't often someone on the street offered to help you--or, at least, offered to help you in a non-threatening way. Joseph's initial instinct was to be suspicious, but he would much rather be grateful so he chose the more pleasant option and turned back towards his apartment. One more block and around the corner sat his cozy abode.

The apartment building wasn't the nicest on the block, but it held a certain charm with its brick exterior and wide multi-paned windows that had appealed to Joseph. He remembered Sebastian and Myra both trying to convince him to move somewhere newer, an up-and-coming neighborhood with fresh buildings all painted some dim shade of gray or beige, but he wanted to capture the _feel_ of the city. It was hard to know the city, actually be a part of it, when you were tucked away in some cookie-cutter neighborhood smelling of cut grass and privilege, so he much preferred the little piece of downtown he'd managed to find and cultivate into his own well-kept home.

Stepping into his little studio apartment was a relief and Joseph was quick to wipe his shoes on the rug and discard them by the door. The small kitchenette was to his left, the few cupboards and short counter space hugging the corner of the room and cradling his round kitchen table. The paper bags consumed most of the table's pale wood surface, and whatever space was left was quickly covered by groceries as they were plucked one-by-one from their thin brown prisons. Joseph looked up as he heard the soft thud and patter of little feet from further in the cluttered apartment where he could just make out his furniture from the light filtering in through his wide windows. He'd left the kitchen light on, but it did little to reach the far end of the small space, and he didn't quite have time to reach the light switch before soft, heavy feet pressed to his leg and started pawing in long leisurely strokes. The quiet meow was very demanding.

"Hello, Biscuit. I know, I know, I’ll pet you in a minute." Joseph carefully stepped around the large fluffy gray cat and flicked on the lights. Biscuit, an old cat Joseph had adopted from the pound not more than two years before, was a billowy, assertive presence in his life. The next meow melted into a wide yawn, and Biscuit made certain to stretch out in the middle of the kitchen where she could take up as much space as possible. Joseph sighed, hands on his hips, and watched her needy display. When she rolled over and stretched out all the more, front paws touching the cupboards and back paws pushing a table leg, he resigned to his dutiful role of attention-giver.

"You'll get hair all over my coat," he complained, but he scooped her up nonetheless and scratched behind her ears affectionately. Her purring rumbled against his chest, and she butted her head against his shoulder when he stopped petting her in favor of putting the milk in the fridge.

"Such a needy cat! I thought old cats were supposed to mind their own business and sleep all the time,” he huffed but couldn't really complain. It was nice to have someone waiting for him at the end of the day; even if that someone was a furry rascal that shed on every article of black clothing he owned and often took up _both_ pillows without asking. She was one of the most demanding and unreasonable roommates he had ever had. She was also by far the cutest.

"I bought good beef at the market tonight so we can have proper sukiyaki. We'll make Mom proud." He smiled at himself and stepped further into the apartment, past the table to his small gray couch.

"But you have to let me make it or else neither of us will get any," he said, speaking softly despite Biscuit's general lack of interest, and leaned down to lay her on the couch. She shook herself, resulting in a fine cloud of gray fur, before hopping off the couch and resuming her spot on the bed beside one of the windows. Sometimes Joseph wondered why he had agreed to take the poor girl, and then he remembered how much she actually did for him. He smiled and went back to the kitchen to finish with the groceries.

Since his apartment didn't offer much room, all of the furniture, save for the kitchen table, was pressed against either wall to allow for as much open space in the center as possible. Really, all it accomplished was a sort of aisle way leading to the balcony door, with the couch and bed on one side and his television and desk on the other. Thankfully, he'd managed to save up enough money to buy a small flat screen television so he didn't have one of those old burly monsters eating away at his floor space. The new, sleek addition to his home was much appreciated. He could even fit his coffee table in front of the couch comfortably now.

Having dug the cutting board out of a bottom cupboard and one of his few remaining sharp knives from a drawer, he felt excited at the prospect of a proper meal and was ready for a nice, cozy night at home.

He could eagerly anticipated the comfort, pushing his tensions away, stifling his worries for Sebastian and his guilt at having missed his opportunity to visit Myra's grave, and offering him, for once, a decent night's sleep. He wasn't much of a dreamer but maybe he could make an exception tonight.

Joseph left his small cooking station in favor of shedding his heavy black coat, now more gray than anything, and hanging it in its place on the back of his apartment door. He tried to brush some of the hair off but knew it was a battle he would never win.

"I don't think I look good in gray, Biscuit," he called to her while he loosened his tie, smiling when she paid him no mind.

Joseph shook his head at himself, slipping the red tie out from under his collar and stepping to the bathroom door hidden to the right of the entranceway. It was a pocket door that rattled and squeaked when he slid it open and which hid the cramped mess of pale green tiles that was his bathroom. He never quite understood why anyone would make it necessary to walk through one's bathroom to get to the closet, but what did he know?

Joseph hung his tie with the others, removed his clothes in the slow, methodical way he always did, and folded them neatly before placing them in his hamper. No use causing unnecessary wrinkles. His gloves went on a small shelf beside his spare pair of shoes, and he fished through his shirts until he found something a little less formal. Settling on a dark red t shirt with Toronto written across the front in some sporty font, Joseph had never felt so Canadian in his life.

Joseph returned to the kitchen and was quick to rinse the mutinous cabbage and other vegetables. Sukiyaki was more suited for family dinners, and his family had usually reserved it for special occasions or as a treat with high quality ingredients from the Japanese market, but he was not above making his own, smaller pot just for himself. He was allowed to indulge every once in a while.

He grabbed a leek and stared at it on the marred surface of the cutting board. He told himself he wasn't going to think about it--about _Seb_. Worrying would only hurt him and, if past experiences were anything to go by, hurt their relationship. Sebastian had been a close friend for years, and it was so difficult to look at him now and come to terms with the fact that things change. People change. Joseph just wasn't ready to give up on him.

He brought the knife down hard, severing the leaves from the stalk with a loud _thwack_ that sent Biscuit skittering about the apartment.

"Oh, sorry, Biscuit," Joseph called and turned to peek further into the room, but all he could see of her was a bushy gray tail twitching beneath his desk. He went back to his chopping and made a mental note to make it up to her later. If he wasn't going to be able to mend his friendship with Sebastian then he was certainly going to take care of his domestic relationship with Biscuit. She was all he had outside of Canada.

Preparations were finished, the pot was found along with his small tabletop cooker, and he lugged his bowls and other utensils to his coffee table where he set up a cozy nest from which he could cook and let his mind rot with television rather than anxiety.

He plugged the cooktop in behind the couch, having to drag the coffee table closer to do so, and let it heat up while he flipped through the channels absently. Biscuit heard the scattered sounds of the TV and took it as her cue to find a place to sit on the narrow ledge in front of its screen. Joseph couldn't get upset with her; he just laughed.

"There's nothing good on anyway. Maybe I should invest in Netflix-"

The knock on his door was sudden, abrasive, and cost Biscuit her prime real estate on the TV stand as she darted away. Joseph stared at the door a moment as if it had been some sort of mistake, but the knock came again, more insistent this time and he scrambled to his feet, dropping the remote on the table in the process and upturning the bowl of mushrooms, though he didn't seem to notice. He walked up to the door cautiously, held the knob tightly in his hand, and knocked his glasses against the peephole to look out.

All he had to see was the faded beige coat.

The door was opened with a jangle of locks, and Joseph stared at his partner in surprise. "Sebastian?"

The older man looked up from where he'd been staring at some distant point beyond the floor, bleary eyes catching on the foreign color of Joseph's casual clothing before meeting their mark hidden behind dark frames. The sharp, biting smell of whiskey made Joseph's chest tighten, and the redness of Sebastian's eyes only made it ache all the more.

Sebastian blinked hard and seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts. "We need to talk,” he said eventually. His voice came slowly, and even though Joseph knew Sebastian could hold his liquor, the dragging of his words as they melted together made it difficult for Joseph to overlook Seb's condition. "About the case, Joseph. I've been thinking. What if it's not a doctor at all?"

Joseph didn't know what to say at first and sighed as he stepped back to let Sebastian inside.

"Come in, Sebastian. Please." Joseph tried to smile but the haunted look on Sebastian's face was enough to kill whatever attempt he could have made. He watched Sebastian trudge in and shut the door behind him. Suddenly, his cozy apartment seemed far smaller, tight, confining. He turned back to Sebastian and watched him look around as if he were lost.

"You've changed up the place," Sebastian mumbled and Joseph stepped around him to clear the paper bags from the table.

"Well, you haven't been over in a long time," Joseph said, surprised that Sebastian had even remembered which apartment was his.

Sebastian looked so run down--more than before-- with his wrinkled shirt left bare without his tie or vest, and his face pale save for the obvious distress around his eyes. It was painful to see, and even more painful to hear him speak. Everything about him looked weighed down, the slight slump of his shoulders, his head bowing forward--

"Hey there, Biscuit. Long time no see," Seb's face softened when he recognized Biscuit's bushy body creeping out from her hiding place. Even then, when he looked the least bit distracted, calm, even, there was this weariness about him that was just so _terrifying._ He looked up from where he was reaching out to the now eager Biscuit, who came trotting over for attention. He caught Joseph's eye and that brief softness left him. He straightened and rested a hand on the table.

"Joseph, the butchers, what if they aren’t in the medical field?" Sebastian leaned forward, whether to keep himself steady or just to express the magnitude of his thoughts, Joseph couldn't be sure. “Someone without a license, without proper training. A medical student maybe or…even a vet student, I don’t know.”

Joseph had certainly considered the thought before, he actually recalled having a conversation with Sebastian about it but he didn’t bother bringing that up.

"That is entirely possible, but there’s no evidence to suggest anyone specific. Without any leads to narrow our search we’d have to question every medical student in the city and that just isn’t realistic,” he said, speaking slowly and watching Sebastian absorb each word into his buzzing brain.

Sebastian frowned and tapped his finger on the table insistently. "Not all of them were precise. There was the girl on the east side and…Myra too,” He said, fumbling slightly over a word or two and clearing his throat as if that might help the matter. "I think it could be students or even…Christ, even self-taught surgeons. I wouldn’t doubt it. You can find anything on the internet these days, Joe. It’s got to be _somebody_ ,” he rattled on, and Joseph was a bit surprised at the level of thinking he was capable of in such a compromised state. "We exhausted our options with physicians, Joseph, it's gotta be something else." Sebastian stared at him with a sobering intensity and Joseph began to feel that odd whisper of guilt tickling at the back of his brain again. "We're missing something."

Joseph could hear Seb's teeth grinding, and he took a hesitant step closer.

Sebastian braced his hands on the table, pressing down hard enough that it began to tilt and Joseph had to reach out hurriedly to keep it from flipping. Everything about Sebastian was tense, coiled tight, pressing down harder and harder on his skull and his chest, curling his shoulders forward and sinking his head towards the table until Joseph thought he might curl in on himself. Or break.

"We're missing something…" This time his voice was quiet, words pressed against his clenched teeth until they forced their way through the thin spaces that left his voice shredded and weak. "I can look into medical students from two years back, I can..." Sebastian’s voice dissolved under the suggestion of such a momentous task, and his burning rage and desperation seemed to drain him. He lifted a heavy hand to hide the crack in his thinning composure and rub the sadness from his eyes before it could further stain his face.

Sebastian was strong, a stubborn, hardheaded man, certainly, but dependable and solid. Seeing him crumble like this cut Joseph deeply. It left him feeling like he should be doing more, like he should have solved this by now.

He rested a hand on Sebastian's back, felt the muscles there flinch at his intrusion, but he didn't pull away. Joseph started to rub softly, in small, cautious circles and felt the tremors of grief beneath his fingertips.

"Sebastian?"

His partner gave no response. Perhaps his silence was a way of steadying his emotions, or maybe he simply had nothing more to offer.

Joseph didn't know what to say for the longest time, aware of what Sebastian didn't want him to see or to know and trying his best to give him what privacy he could afford while still being supportive.

Just as he was certain there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation, he felt the warm, persistent pressure of Biscuit rubbing against his leg. He frowned down at her, but she was already winding her way between Sebastian's legs and raising her voice in a soft plea.

Biscuit had been ignored long enough, it seemed, and she cared little for the hard voices and tension in the room. She meowed again, louder this time, and stretched up to paw at Sebastian's leg.

Sebastian took in a few deep breaths and cleared his throat, his hand moving just enough for him to look down at Biscuit's wide green eyes and fluff that stuck out every which way. She yawned widely and stretched up even further to butt her head against his leg.

Sebastian sighed so heavily that Biscuit sunk down as if to flee, although she stuck around to get the pets she most rightfully deserved.

"You're a damn needy cat," Sebastian grumbled but dropped his hand from his face and held it out for her to sniff at his fingers. He looked exhausted, to say the least, and even the simple task of stroking Biscuit's head seemed to take a lot out of him.

Joseph just watched, gradually becoming aware of the low drone of the television behind him, the smell of mushrooms and waiting vegetables, and the hot plate left to its own devices on the coffee table. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder to be sure all was well before returning his attention to Sebastian and giving his back a gentle pat.

"Seb, why don't you come in and have a seat?" Joseph offered. "I was actually just sitting down to make something to eat--a pretty late supper, but--" He shrugged and let his hand fall away when Sebastian straightened with great effort. The older man rubbed at the back of his neck and looked past Joseph at the little set up on the coffee table. He didn't look at all interested in the food, and for a moment Joseph was worried Sebastian might refuse and stumble back out into the city.

Joseph spoke up again before Sebastian could say no.

"We can talk for a while, if you want, or you could just spoil my cat since she seems to love you so much." They both looked down at Biscuit, who had decided to roll around on the floor, begging for tummy rubs.

Sebastian huffed, a sound that could almost be interpreted as amusement, and seemed to consider his options. At this point he looked as though he was barely on his feet, and Joseph hoped he could convince him to stay or at least to accept a ride home.

Ultimately, Sebastian shrugged.

"Sure, why not? I don't have anywhere else to be," he said, voice hollow and devoid of its usual bite, the rough irritation or impatience that colored his words and often led to arguments.

Joseph couldn't smile at Seb's response but he could definitely feel grateful that Sebastian's pride hadn't gotten in the way.

"Thanks, Seb."

Sebastian looked momentarily confused by the relief in Joseph's voice but didn't, or couldn't, think about it for long. He let Joseph take his coat and looked around again as if he were wondering why he came. "I still say you should have found a place in Park Ridge," he mumbled, perhaps in some frail attempt at humor, and walked rather unsteadily to the couch. He dropped onto it unceremoniously and grunted when Biscuit hastily took up residence in his lap. He grumbled something else, but Joseph couldn't hear it from where he was hanging Sebastian's coat with his own.

Sebastian looked up from his new fluffy lap warmer and nodded at the mess of spilled mushrooms and other vegetables on the coffee table. "What are you trying to make?" He blinked slowly and Joseph wondered just how much he had to drink before he came over.

"Well, I was going to make a hot pot sort of thing. My mom used to make it back home sometimes, but not often." Joseph went about gathering the scattered mushrooms and returning those that hadn't hit the floor to their bowl. One of them showed signs of curious nibbling, and he arched a brow in Biscuit's direction.

"Oh." Sebastian nodded slowly, slumping and propping an elbow on the arm of the couch, chin-in-hand. He looked so tired that Joseph wondered if he should just let him have the bed to sleep it all off, although he doubted stubborn Sebastian would accept the offer.

The quiet chatter of late-night cartoons and the low pleasant rumbling of purring filled the gaps between their thoughts and bouts of conversation.

Joseph finally started his meal, the smell of cooking meat and soy sauce making him realize just how hungry he was. He added vegetables as he pleased, letting them cook before fishing them out with a fork to pop into his mouth. He really should use chopsticks, but he had never been very graceful with them.

He swallowed a mouth full of beef and hesitation before glancing back at Sebastian. He didn't look like he was dozing quite yet but the glassy look in his eyes told Joseph he probably wouldn't last long.

"Are you sure you don't need anything to drink? I'm only going to offer you water though." Joseph tapped his fork on the edge of the pot, and Sebastian frowned at him.

"I'm fine, stop coddling me," Sebastian snapped, though it was mild and distracted. He was still thinking about the case, Joseph realized, and sighed at the hopelessness of it all. There was no way for him to comfort Sebastian, no reassurances to offer, and certainly no advice. Maybe he should just stop "coddling" him like he asked. He stared down at the bubbling mix of sauce and vegetables, nudging a few scallions about and shaking his head.

"I'm just worried--"

"Well stop it." Sebastian's response came more quickly this time but his words tripped and tangled with each other. "I'm a grown ass man; I don't need you to worry about me."

Joseph must have damaged his ego a little, but it seemed like a reasonable price to pay to be sure Sebastian didn't get too out of hand. Joseph didn't apologize.

"All right, Seb," Joseph said and chased a mushroom around the pot before managing to skewer it. The gaps in conversation grew wider and Biscuit's purring grew softer as she dozed in Sebastian's lap. Soon Joseph had finished his meal and wondered why it hadn't tasted quite as good as he'd expected. He got up to unplug the cooker.

"Myra really liked you, ya know? Lily too."

Joseph didn't look up for a few moments, the limp plug hanging from his hands. The names burned him.

"They wouldn't want you to worry all the time either," Sebastian said, his voice growing thicker, harder to understand.

Joseph glanced up cautiously at Sebastian with his head resting on his hand and his eyes fighting a losing battle to stay open.

"Well, I wouldn't have to if you didn't give me so much to worry about," Joseph said and was glad when Sebastian seemed to pick up on his teasing.

Sebastian snorted. "Sure, sure, whatever you say," he mumbled and let his eyes close for good.

Joseph stood there a few moments longer looking from Seb down to the cord in his hands and wondering how long Sebastian would last going on like this. It was a troublesome thought, but also a reality they would have to face if Sebastian refused his help. It was a delicate balancing act of their friendship, their careers, and Sebastian's health, and Joseph wasn't confident in his ability to keep them all from falling.

Joseph shook his head to try and clear the dreary thoughts away and brought the bowls into the kitchen. He worked as quietly as possible, stacking dishes in the sink and storing leftovers, so that by the time he turned off the television Sebastian was snoring. Joseph might have found it funny given any other circumstance, but now he was just glad that Sebastian was getting some sleep. He pulled one of the blankets off his bed and dragged a matching pillow over to the couch. Sebastian was a little too tall for the cramped furniture but Joseph didn't like the idea of him sleeping hunched over like that.

"Sorry, Seb. Just bear with me a moment," he whispered, hooking the other man’s legs up onto the couch and doing his best not to jostle him as he laid him down. In the end, Biscuit was more troubled by the commotion than Sebastian was and had to go through the painstaking task of finding a new spot to nest.

"Oh, you'll be fine," Joseph huffed at her and draped the blanket over Sebastian. "You're going to smell like alcohol, though. I hope you know that." Joseph tugged the blanket up over Sebastian's, chest despite Biscuit's new spot nestled on his arm, and looked down at his sleeping partner. Even when he was out cold, the deep grooves of his frown lines wrinkled his skin. Joseph reached out to smooth a finger over Seb's brow as if that might rub them away though nothing was ever that easy. He remembered a time not too long ago when Sebastian still had color and he smiled more than anyone would have expected. How things changed.

Joseph cradled Sebastian's head gently, lifting it so he could tuck the pillow beneath and offer him some sort of comfort for the following morning. He'd seen Sebastian hungover a number of times, and he hoped it wouldn't be that bad tomorrow. He leaned back to assess his handiwork and smiled at the fluffy gray paws poking out from under the blanket.

"You be sure to keep an eye on him, Biscuit, since he certainly doesn't want me to." Joseph chuckled despite himself and took his time drifting about his apartment before turning out the lights and retreating to his bed. He lay back with his hands folded on his chest and light seeping in through the drafty windows to gleam on his glasses.

He really should sleep, but he couldn't stop thinking. Thinking about Seb, about the case. Sebastian was certainly onto something when he suggested it was someone other than trained medical personnel but the evidence was lacking. Frankly, they were lacking _any_ evidence besides the bodies littered around town in seemingly random locations. No witnesses, no fingerprints, footprints, tire tracks--there was practically _nothing_.

These murders could have easily been performed by some gang or mafia, even, but it seemed unlikely that any organized crime syndicate such as the mob would stoop to the hard work of organ harvesting when they already controlled such a large drug dealing circuit. Not to mention the prostitutes. It just didn't match up.

Then, of course, there was the possibility of one or two trained individuals doing the killings, but if that were the case then how could they remain so elusive? They had to have contacts somewhere, powerful contacts. And what if Sebastian was right? What if the mutilated Henderson girl was somehow related to the other killings? If that were true and this _was_ some sort of organization training people to do these sorts of surgeries, then this was far bigger, and far more complex than they had originally thought. There just had to be a weak link somewhere, and whatever it was they had to find it quickly--for the Henderson sister's sake, and for Sebastian's.

Joseph sighed heavily, turning his head to stare out the frosted glass at the looming buildings beyond and wondering what sort of people resided there. Maybe one of them was the crazy butcher surgeon plaguing the city, or worse, maybe it was the rude cashier girl at the market. Joseph couldn't help but find that amusing, but felt badly about it immediately after. It _could_ be just about anyone, though, and perhaps that was what worried him most. Determination could only take them so far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph gets a rude awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally part of Chapter 2 since I wanted to split the chapters based on perspective, but Joe's chapter was just too big. The end of this chapter was written after pulling an all-nighter so keep that in mind if it's a little wonky. Also, A03 likes to mess up my formatting so sorry about that.

Dim, gray light had already begun to seep through the intricate designs of frost on Joseph's windows when he awoke. The morning had crept up on him with alarming speed, and when he rolled away from the chilled glass and found a face-full of gray fur, he knew he must have fallen asleep without realizing it. Joseph groaned against the tickling of Biscuit's fluff and reached up blindly to shield his face from it.

"Good morning, Biscuit," he mumbled and rubbed at his eyes as he tried to piece together the night before. He paused as his hands touched his face and looked up at the dark smudge that was his ceiling. He didn't remember taking off his glasses. Joseph groaned at his carelessness and started the arduous task of patting down his blankets. It didn’t take long for him to notice that something was off, that his heavy wool comforter had somehow found its way back onto his bed.

Joseph struggled to sit up despite the groggy weight of his body and looked toward the couch as if he would actually be able to see if Sebastian was there. Even if he squinted, it was useless, and he turned his attention back to finding his glasses. It only took a few moments of tugging blankets and shoving pillows (cat and all) before he caught the glint of the faint street lights on their lenses. He leaned forward and plucked them from his windowsill where they were neatly folded and placed within arm's reach had he known to look for them there in the first place. Joseph unfolded them slowly as if the motion might awaken some memory of placing them there the night before, but when he put them on, the cold frames chilling his nose, and saw his blanket and the empty couch, he suspected that the perpetrator had already left.

Joseph sat in his bed, staring at the barren couch and, beyond, his lonely black coat hanging on his door. It couldn't have been much later than 6:30 in the morning and on a Saturday no less-- a day off and the morning after one of Sebastian's drinking binges, and he was, of course, gone. Joseph couldn't say he was disappointed or even surprised, really, but the glasses, the blanket... it was exactly like Seb to look after him like that. The thought of the hungover Sebastian taking the time to cover him up made him smile, and he gathered his blanket up around his shoulders.

"Well, Biscuit, looks like it's just you and me again." He looked back at his pillow and found that she had stretched out in his absence. "That means I won't have to make a real breakfast, at least," he said and reached out to run his fingers through Biscuit's warm fluff before reluctantly squirming his way out of bed, blanket and all. He dragged the comforter with him, draped like a cape over his shoulders, and walked to the kitchen to refill Biscuit's dish for the day and plug in the toaster.

"We don't have much bread left; I should have picked some up last night..." His drowsy musings were interrupted by the shrill, urgent ring of his cell phone. He jumped at the sound and abandoned the crusty remains of his bread in favor of digging in his coat pockets where he had left his phone by mistake. He usually kept it at his side at all times, but last night had certainly tried his customary routines.

Joseph found the phone at last and scrambled to answer. "Ah, yes, Detective Oda speaking," he said and tried to clear the rasp of sleep from his voice. He turned back to his toaster with thoughts of toast and coffee that quickly died under the tight sound of Sebastian's voice.

"Joseph, I need you at Kale's Market in midtown. There's been a murder."

Joseph had difficulty processing what his partner was saying for a moment, his foggy brain tripping over the change in Sebastian's voice from a slurred mouthful back to his usual blunt assertiveness.

"I'm on my way to get you now. It sounds like they've already roped off the scene and I want to get there before the officers start poking around too much," Sebastian continued. "Joseph, you there?"

Joseph shook his head, letting all thoughts of morning comforts fall away with the heavy wool of his blanket to pool on the cold linoleum of his kitchen floor.

"Yes, I'm here." Joseph had already reached his closet when the name clicked. "Kale's Market? But that's--that's just down the street. I was there last night," he said, unable to help the surprise that bled into his voice.

Sebastian was silent a moment, and Joseph kept his hands busy despite his slow mental start to the morning and the inkling of disbelief he hadn't managed to squash yet. He stood with his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as he grabbed up a shirt, pants, socks, and gloves. He'd nearly mastered the art of dressing at a moment's notice and only had to juggle the phone once in order to remove the old t-shirt he'd been wearing.

"We'll talk about that later," Sebastian said, and Joseph buttoned his shirt as quickly as he could while trying to get his mind back in working order. He would have benefited from that full-night’s sleep he had been hoping for but it just didn't happen, somehow he couldn't feel disappointed though.

"Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready," Joseph said, tying his shoes and shrugging his holster on over his vest.

"I’ll be there in three."

Joseph nodded to himself, ending the call and tucking his phone away before donning his coat and smoothing his hair back haphazardly. It wasn't going to last long in the wind anyway.

For a moment as Joseph trotted down the narrow stairway, his gloved hand brushing down the length of the old wood banister, he wondered just how safe it was to have Sebastian drive. Sure it had been a few hours since Sebastian had been drinking but Joseph had seen him after a long night and it wasn’t a very comforting thought.

He told himself to leave his worries at home, that Sebastian would never drive if he thought he couldn't handle it, but as soon as he stepped out into the crisp morning chill and saw his partner's old car slipping to a stop in the thin snow, he couldn't help but feel a little anxious.

The smell of exhaust and cigarette smoke was almost as stifling as the heat filling Sebastian's car and for a brief moment Joseph actually considered walking.

"You bring a kit with you?" Sebastian spoke through a stream of smoke and tossed his cigarette out the window as they made their way a little too quickly down the sloppy road.

"No. I had to restock some things so it's still at the precinct."

"No problem. The one in the trunk should be fine."

 

The drive was short and offered Joseph enough time to gather his thoughts. The small market looked the same as it always had when they stepped out of Sebastian’s car. There were no broken windows or visible signs of distress to suggest anything had happened in the few short hours since Joseph had been there. At least the neighbors would be spared from the gruesome scene, though he couldn’t say the same for little Mrs. Kale.

Joseph's shoes crunched on stones and bits of salt as he wove between the police cruisers and hazy clouds of exhaust that glowed in the glare of headlights. He could see two officers standing with an old couple near the street; their grim faces touched red with the morning chill. He eyed them closely and realized that they were the business owners and, judging by Mrs. Kale’s dazed stare, the ones who had found the victim. Joseph ducked under the shiny yellow caution tape with ease and tugged his small leather notebook out from inside of his coat.  

The sky had already begun to lighten and the promise of thick clouds and a stiff breeze offered little hope of relief from the insensitive cold. With morning came people, nosey onlookers trying to catch a peek at death and violence and reporters with fake voices and questionable intentions that only made his work more difficult.

"Detectives."

Joseph looked up from his notes where he'd hastily scrawled the initial details of the case in tidy shorthand and stepped over when one of the officers called to them. Sebastian spoke up before Joseph got a chance, stepping up behind him with the clunky black kit he’d retrieved from the trunk of his car. The container was old and dented here and there but, surprisingly enough, was always stocked when they needed it.

"Connelly, you must have gotten here pretty quickly," Sebastian said, stopping a few feet away from the traumatized couple so he might speak to Connelly without bothering them further.

"Yeah, well, we haven't been here for more than twenty minutes, twenty-five tops," Connelly replied, glancing back at the owners and lowering his voice. "It took a while to calm them down. It's pretty gruesome in there." He shook his head and nodded toward the store. "Let me show you around, you're not going to get much out of them right now. The wife could hardly tell us her name when we got here, let alone anything relevant about the victim."

Joseph looked past Connelly at the owners huddled together against the chill and considered speaking to them. Perhaps a familiar face would offer some sort of comfort but there would be plenty of time for that later when things had settled down for the old couple. He nodded in understanding and followed Connelly to the store where an officer stood in front of the frosted windows, documenting the names and times at which people entered the crime scene. Sebastian trailed behind them, taking his time to study the storefront with squinted eyes and it was difficult for Joseph to discern whether the frown on his partner’s face was from him concentrating or, more likely, from his lingering hangover. He just hoped Sebastian was clear-headed enough to stay focused.

"So, what's the situation, exactly?" Joseph asked as they stepped over the scarred curb and through the doorway, its heavy glass door propped open by a bag of salt. He looked up instinctively and frowned at the lack of bells hanging from the frame.

"Well, as far as we can tell it's a single homicide, 26 year old man about 5'10 and obviously an employee." They stopped just inside the door, and Connelly nodded further in at the middle, red-streaked register. "Name's James Farren, according to the ID we found in the employee lounge, and it seems like he'd been working here for a while. The owners knew him pretty well."

Joseph was quick with his notes but looked up at Connelly expectantly when the officer grew quiet.

Connelly shifted his weight from one foot to the other and shoved his hands in his pockets. "He's down at the second register," he said and looked away.

Joseph eyed him a moment, picked up on the tight press of his lips and the way his brows knitted when he looked toward the checkout lanes, and realized that Connelly was trying to avoid the scene.

 Despite his obvious discomfort Connelly still managed to pick up on Sebastian’s stiff movements and looked up from his shoes in favor of eyeing Sebastian in the harsh store lighting.

"You two should check on the security tapes. The owners said they should be in working order but I didn’t get a chance to get back there…” Connelly paused and raised his brows at Sebastian. “You doing alright there, big guy? Not looking so hot this morning.”

Sebastian looked up from where he’d pulled a packet of latex gloves from his kit and narrowed his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Uh, well, you’re just looking a little…tired. Must’ve been a long night.”

Sebastian cast Joseph a glance.

“Yeah. Listen, Oscar, I haven’t had my coffee yet this morning so if we could _get going_ that would be great. Besides, wasn’t your shift over almost an _hour_ ago?”

“Not quite an hour. I mean, they caught me right at the end of my shift, so…” Connelly shrugged and looked to Joseph for a little help which he was more than glad to offer if it meant getting back to work.

"Right, well, we’ll be sure to check the cameras, Connelly, don’t worry about that. But you checked the employee lounge already?” He watched Sebastian walk past as they spoke, leaving the kit behind for Joseph to retrieve the camera when he was ready. “Did you see any evidence of another employee; a woman. There was a woman working at the register last night."

Connelly frowned at him in momentary confusion. "Was there?" He glanced around the store as if this new knowledge might make something more appear between the racks of cereal and canned fruits. "We didn't see anyone else but maybe the owners know something." He hesitated a moment, looked as though he might ask something but ended up staring past Joseph and thought better of it. "Right, I'll see what I can find out," Connelly said with a new sense of purpose and turned to shuffle out the door in his clunky winter boots.

Joseph wondered if he should have explained further but assumed it wouldn't make much of a difference whether or not Connelly knew that he had seen the young woman the night before. And, honestly, he couldn't say he remembered much about her besides her sarcasm so he wouldn't be much help anyway. He sighed at the thought of his lack of attention somehow keeping them from saving the poor girl, though it wasn't certain whether or not she actually needed saving. He reminded himself that there was no way for him to have foreseen this, and that offered him enough relief to concentrate on the task at hand.

He’d noticed the smell as soon as he stepped inside but it wasn't until he left the fresh air of the open doorway that it truly struck him. It was a sharp stench, heavy and metallic, and the deeper he waded the stronger it got, until he had to cover his face with the back of his hand and felt disgust tickle at the back of his throat. He was suddenly grateful for missing breakfast.

Joseph saw the blood before the body, tall arches of it painting the counter, dripping between the buttons on the register, and even speckling the ceiling in small bursts of dark droplets. The amount of it pooling on the floor was horrifying and went far beyond the usual drug store shooting.

Rounding the first counter, Joseph was met with a surprisingly simple scene. The dirty tiled floor was engorged and warped with the thick puddles that bloomed from the man's body, yet there was no sign of struggle save for the smears of frantic hands in what had ultimately been a fruitless endeavor to save his own life. Sebastian stood at the opposite end of the lane and looked as though he were studying the man’s face intently.

“Find anything?” Joseph was already picking his way around splotches of blood to join his partner.

“It’s not much.”

“Well, there has to be _something_ for him to bleed like this. I don’t see any stab wounds from here—“

“No, no, I mean, it’s not much of a wound.” Sebastian crouched down, careful to keep his coat from touching the floor, and leaned forward to point at the dead man’s neck. “See it? Can’t see much from here but I’m sure we’ll know more once the coroner decides to show up.”

Joseph ignored Sebastian’s grumbling and snapped photos of the scene. The wound that Sebastian mentioned was difficult to see given the man’s awkward position between the counters and the sheer volume of blood, but Joseph did his best to get what he could on film. In his over ten years of working at the KCPD Joseph had learned the hard way that taking his own preliminary photos before the official crew showed up could make all the difference. As good as some of the crime scene photographers were, Joseph felt much better knowing that he had his own shots to fall back on in case of any discrepancies.

“I’m not seeing anything else from here,” Sebastian said as he rose to his feet and paused to press a hand to his head. No doubt it was bothering him but he wouldn’t admit to it. “No bullet wounds or casings, not even a stab wound though it’s a bit early to be sure.”

“That seems a bit odd for a robbery. I would expect something a little MESSIER.”

“Jesus, joseph, this isn’t messy enough for ya?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Joseph looked up from his camera just long enough to glare.

“I wouldn’t call this a robbery either. It doesn’t look like they even touched the register.” Sebastian had made his way around the counter and hovered as close to the cash register as he could get without compromising anything. “No blood smears or signs of damage…I doubt they got anything out of here unless they somehow got him to hand over the money before they killed him but that doesn’t seem likely. Young guy like him probably wouldn’t just stand around and let something like this happen.”

“Unless he didn’t know it was happening.”

“Right. Which leaves us with a few possibilities. Maybe the killer wasn’t here for the money. Maybe they had some beef with this James kid or something.”

Joseph pondered that a moment and watched Sebastian eye the various blood spatters on the wall beyond the counter. “Or maybe the girl was behind the counter and she gave them the money before he made it to the front of the store.”

Sebastian looked at him searchingly. “Could be…”

Joseph didn’t like Sebastian’s questioning stare and certainly didn’t like the idea of having another victim on their hands. He had yet to find any sign of her but that only made him worry all the more.

His initial impression of the scene was just a single homicide. It seemed unlikely that robbery had anything to do with it and with only one obvious laceration that they knew of on the man's neck, the murder seemed very clean, very calculated. The cut was surprising small and precise, one clean line over the shallow carotid artery that left little need for further assault. The man would have passed out in moments and bled out quickly thereafter, which explained the sheer volume of blood on the scene but left little to be said about motive.

Joseph eyed the blood spray carefully and tracked each spurt from the man's throat over the counter and register until he was staring at his partner’s back.

“Seb, move for a second.” Joseph leaned so he might look around his partner at the wall beyond. Thankfully, Sebastian did as he was told with minimal grumbling and allowed Joseph to shuffled around the counter and take his place. He shifted his position little by little between the counter and the wall until he could get a good look at the body and the blood splatters, eye-balling the trajectory and noting the patterns.

Sebastian frowned when Joseph started hunching down and stood as close to the counter as he could manage.

"What are you doing?"

Joseph leaned to the left a little before glancing back at the wall behind him. "The spatter on the wall, it’s odd…it looks like it’s interrupted here.”

"So, someone was blocking it? Well, there's no way this guy was standing behind the counter when he was attacked, and I doubt the killer could reach out that far and still manage a clean cut."  

The suggestion behind Sebastian’s words had Joseph’s mind cycling through the same questions as before with a new urgency. Where was the girl? He looked from Sebastian to the back of the store. Joseph meant to voice his concerns but was interrupted by the sound of voices and lazy footsteps. The crime scene photographers had arrived, a small cluster of weary men and women lugging in equipment and donning gloves and plastic shoe covers, and if they were lucky the coroner wouldn’t be too far behind them.

“You finish with your pictures and head back to see what the cameras picked up. I’m going to chat with these guys and see if Connelly found out anything about the girl,” Sebastian said, leaving little room for argument, and turned to meet the crew before they could reach the scene.

Joseph wasted little time in finishing with his photographs. He probably would have taken more if he hadn’t been so eager to look at the camera footage. There _had_ to be something useful in those recordings if the cameras worked liked the owners supposedly said they did and from the looks of the scene, they were going to need some solid evidence to get them on the right track. Cautiously stepping back out from behind the counter, Joseph took one final photo of the wall before heading to the employee lounge.

It felt odd to step through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door that Joseph had seen and ignored over a thousand times and even stranger when the room beyond was little more than a glorified closet. The room was barely large enough for a raggedy old loveseat against the back wall and a small fridge that looked like it came straight from some college dorm room. There was a series of cubbies holding spare shirts and other personal items of the employees near the doorway that kept the door from swinging all the way open and nearly hid a second door that Joseph could only assume led to the security setup.

The second room was even smaller than the first and Joseph had to squeeze between the door and a chair to get inside. Kale’s Market was old and had serious space issues but, surprisingly, its security system looked as though it was recently updated. The monitors lined up on a heavy wood desk looked new and much better than some of the bulky systems Joseph had seen in other establishments, but the screens were black and lifeless save for the one at the very end furthest from the door.

Joseph knew better than to expected anything particular on the tapes but had hoped for just about anything other than what he saw. There were no tapes on the desk and those in its drawers were labeled with much older dates so that Joseph was certain that this was the only copy they had. The fuzzy footage that played in a continuous loop in front of him was the only glimpse they had into the events of the night before and the scene looked all too familiar.

Sebastian’s footsteps were surprisingly quiet when he came back to join Joseph in the employee lounge and when he called Joseph’s name it took a moment for him to respond.

“There you are, Joseph. Connelly just got a call. We’ve got to go…wait, what are you looking at?” Sebastian pushed his way through the cramped room to hover at Joseph’s side and peer over his shoulder at the small black and white screen. “Did you find anything worthwhile? This…what is this?”

Joseph managed to free himself from his thoughts long enough to look at his partner with a growing sense of dread. “It’s me. The footage from last night when I went shopping.”

“Okay, but why are you looking at that? We need to see what happened _after_ that,” Sebastian said and frowned when he watched Joseph on the screen leave the store only for the tape to loop again.

“That’s all there is.”

“What?”

“That’s all that’s on the tape, Sebastian. It just…keeps playing, I don’t know…”

“That can’t be right.” Sebastian stepped closer and leaned in front of Joseph to get at the controls. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s obviously been doctored, Seb. Whoever did this cut out everything except for the few minutes it took me to buy groceries.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would they do this?” Sebastian looked up at him and Joseph didn’t know what to say. The two of them stood like that for a moment, Sebastian studying his partner intently and Joseph watching himself on the screen juggling his paper bags and leaving the store without any real answer to offer.

Thankfully Sebastian was the one to break the silence as he leaned over to turn off the screen and retrieve the tape.

“Listen, we don’t have time to worry about this right now. We’ve got to go.”

Joseph watched Sebastian tuck the tape away inside of his coat and frowned in confusion. “Go? We’ve hardly started analyzing the scene—“

“They found a girl a couple blocks over. She’s wearing the same uniform as our victim.” Sebastian paused a moment and Joseph could tell he was sizing him up, looking for a reaction, but what reaction could Joseph possibly have? Despite the hint of guilt on his conscience and a healthy dose of sympathy, Joseph _couldn’t_ feel anything for this girl. He might feel some sort of responsibility maybe, but the fact remained that he didn’t know her. He didn’t know her and he didn’t know James Farren and he didn’t know anyone who would have a fixation on him to the extent of singling him out on some security footage at a small store. He didn’t know a lot of things and that didn’t sit well with him.

“If the girl you’re talking about is the cashier I saw last night and the girl on the tape, then that makes this a double homicide and we’ll want to be sure that no money is missing from her register before we rule out robbery.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him and turned to shuffle out of the room. “I don’t think the money had anything to do with this. But you’re right. We can’t be sure until we see her…and, Joe?”

Joseph stopped when Sebastian did to avoid running into him in the small lounge and looked at him questioningly.

“Let’s not mention the tape to anyone just yet. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas about you being involved.”

“I’m _not_ involved. I don’t know either of the victims. I only shop here and chat with the owners on occasion, hardly a means to suggest that I had anything to do with this case.” Joseph was almost offended at the suggestion though he understood what Sebastian was getting at.

“Hey, I know that, okay? But some of these cops out here like to talk and the last thing we need is them talking about you. So we’ll keep it between us until we get back to the precinct, right?”

Joseph sighed and lifted a hand to rub at his eyes beneath his glasses, suddenly feeling the lack of coffee in his system. “Right.”

“Good. I’ll grab our kit, you get the car started.” Sebastian dropped his keys in Joseph’s waiting hand and with the weight of the metal Joseph could feel any lingering hope of relaxation that weekend sink away. “Let’s get going.”  
  



End file.
